


How To Save A Life

by loveleedstolarry



Series: Kill Harry Styles [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, M/M, Trigger Warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 12:31:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveleedstolarry/pseuds/loveleedstolarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to ‘<strong><a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/686961">Kill Harry Styles</a></strong>’</p>
            </blockquote>





	How To Save A Life

**Author's Note:**

> um yeah, sorry for the corny use of the lines from 'Little Things' x

➜ [Read on Tumblr](http://loveleedstolarry.tumblr.com/post/34956928547/how-to-save-a-life)

+

It was chilly where Louis stood on the hill. The grass was cold and wet and he thought about how he should’ve worn different shoes instead of his TOMs. Now the cold bit at his feet as he shuffled them, trying to find another comfortable standing position. He’d been standing at this spot for over an hour now he assumed.

“Lou?” a quiet voice asked from behind him.

He sighed. “Hey, Nialler.”

“How’re you holding up?

Louis shrugged. “I’ve been better, mate.”

The Irishman snorted lightly before agreeing with a soft “yeah.” Both band mates were quiet as they looked down at the gravestone by Louis’ feet. It was simple but elegant, nonetheless. It was made of marble and it looked shiny and new.

“Harry Fletcher,” Niall read aloud.

Louis swallowed before reaching out to touch the stone where it protruded from the ground. It was cold and wet, almost stinging the tips of his fingers.

“This could have been him,” he whispered.

“Hey,” Niall soothed. “Harry’s alive. He’s f-”

“He’s not fine,” Louis cut in. “He’s sad, and broken, and… and it’s my fault,” he choked out.

“No,” Niall said firmly. “Louis, you know that’s not true and you know Harry wouldn’t want you thinking like that,” he argued.

“But why didn’t I see anything?” Louis croaked. “I’m with him twenty-four seven! I should have-”

“It came as a surprise to all of us, mate,” Niall said, rubbing circles on Louis’ back.

“But I love him,” Louis whispered.

“I know.”

The duo stayed in that spot for about fifteen minutes before Niall suggested they go back to Louis and Harry’s flat. Louis was reluctant to leave, but the blond had speculated it had more to do with his not wanting to go back when Harry wasn’t there rather than an actual desire to stay in this graveyard. He reminded Louis that Liam and Zayn would be there and although Louis still didn’t seem that eager to return, he gave up his spot in front of Harry Fletcher’s grave willingly.

+

“Louis?”

The Doncaster lad looked up from where he was making tea. “Yeah?”

Niall and Liam were currently huddled around Harry’s laptop- Louis had told Liam he could check his email with it. Niall had his head craned over Liam’s arm almost, staring intently at whatever was on the screen. Zayn, who had been with them at the start, was now seated in one of their armchairs, looking pissed. Louis focused back on Liam though, who was only looking at him with sad, worried eyes. Louis thought he saw something else in them- pity, maybe- but he couldn’t tell.

“You might want to come see this,” the Wolverhampton native suggested quietly.

Louis was apprehensive- if he had to pick a word. Zayn was practically seething and Niall just looked sad yet annoyed at the same time. Liam, who had now forced his expression into one of practiced calm, watched as Louis made his way over to the couch.

Louis hadn’t even fully closed the distance when he saw it. How could he not? It was typed in big black, block letters and was placed at the top of a practically all white page. It was the loudest thing on the screen. And it was the loudest thing in the room.

**KILL HARRY STYLES**

“That’s not funny,” Louis snapped, thinking it was a cruel joke. “Delete it. Now.” The stormy blue eyed boy turned around abruptly, determined to rid the image from his mind. He hadn’t gotten more than a few steps when Liam’s next words stopped him in his tracks.

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean you _can’t_?” Louis asked, seemingly annoyed.

“It’s a blog, mate. It doesn’t belong to any of us-”

Liam was cut off by Niall snorting at the absurdity of that thought.

“-so we can’t take it down.”

“Well, close it, or x it out and delete the history. Just don’t let him see-” Louis cut off abruptly and the rest of the boys stared at him with sympathetic eyes. Like he was missing something. It was then that Louis got it.

“No,” he whispered. It was a simple word, but it tumbled out of his mouth and fell off his lips repeatedly and in a rush of ‘ _nonononono_ ’ as he made his way back to the couch. “Has he- he hasn’t…?”

“He’s seen it, mate,” Niall said, not needing Louis to elaborate on his half-coherent thoughts. Moving over so Louis could have the spot next to Liam and the laptop; he patted the now empty space.

“It was already up when we switched the screen on,” Liam explained carefully. “Odds are that Harry’s already seen it.”

And just like that, Louis suddenly needed to know _everything_ about this page, despite his initial aversion to it. Was it just one person? Or a group? Were they actually planning to attack _his_ Harry? Louis rolled his eyes at that thought because, really? Who’s stupid enough to put a plan of murder on the internet? Then again, who was dumb enough to make a page dedicated to killing one-fifth of one of the most famous boy bands? Louis was no stranger to Tumblr. He knew how vicious their fans could be; joke or not. This fact was proven true as he read through numerous death threats towards the page’s owners. And even though Louis in no way approved of the fans’ methods, he couldn’t help but feel slightly proud of how many people were standing up for his baby.

This proud and slightly happy feeling was soon put to rest, however, by the knowledge that he knew Harry wouldn’t have seen it that way. Because he _knew_ Harry. The curly haired lad would have taken each insult to heart. He wouldn’t have been able to focus on the people coming to his defense because most of their methods were just as cruel as the owner’s it seemed. Harry would never have approved of someone defending him with the weapon of telling his attacker to go die. He was too kind and compassionate for that. And although Louis loved this about his boyfriend, he knew very well that it would be his biggest weakness. His innate desire to want to make every single person happy made him vulnerable.

Louis felt his own heart crack as he read through each published message and its answer. He was pissed and sad and horrorstruck. Both by the fans’ methods- which mostly consisted of cruel words- and the answers to their messages. They lacked feeling for the most part, but that didn’t settle his nerves or his stomach. If anything, the almost lethargic-like answers made everything seem so much more serious. Whoever created this page wasn’t snapping back with capitalized letters and excessive curses and exclamation points. Nothing of the answers indicated that the person had made this page out of pure want to get fans riled up. There was no sign that they had made it just to be different; just to be able to say ‘ _yeah, I don’t like Harry Styles. You know, the curly haired one from one Direction._ ’ The answers were simple and to the point. Absolutely nothing made it out to seem like they disliked the band- in fact, they stated they loved the rest of the boys. It was just Harry.

And Louis knew without a doubt that that’s what killed Harry the most. It’s not that Harry was so self-absorbed that he was blind to as _why_ or _how_ people didn’t or couldn’t like him. The lad just didn’t see the point of hating just to hate. He needed _reasons_. And this blog, it had reasons.

As Louis continued scrolling down the page, all the boys’ seemingly stopped breathing when they got to a picture- the blog was mainly just answered asks- near the bottom of the page. Now every member of the band had seen their fair share of graphics and what the fans have dubbed as ‘manips’. They were well aware at how talented some of them were with photoshop and editing and such, so this picture in comparison was by no means good. But, as many people say, it’s the thought that counts. And this thought came in the form of a picture of the youngest band member- taken sometime when they had filmed an episode of _iCarly_. His head was leaned back and slightly to the side- as he was pretending to be sick for the scene. But where there should have been nothing but the flawless creamy tone of Harry’s neck- a neck that Louis has shamelessly kissed and decorated in numerous love bites, only to soothe the resulting sting with a gentle swipe of his tongue- was red. As said before, it was nothing graphic or well edited. But still. Louis stared at the very obviously computer drawn red marker streaks that were scribbled crudely over his boyfriend’s neck.

“Holy shit,” Zayn- who must have joined them when the eldest band member had taken hold of Harry’s laptop- breathed.

“That’s not right,” Liam stated solemnly.

“Of course it’s not _right_!” Louis snapped. He didn’t mean to, but he couldn’t help it. All he saw was _red_. Red on that shit quality picture, red colored his vision on anything and everything he set his sights on at the moment.

White-hot rage was coursing through him as he finished reading everything. Finally taking the time to read the side bar description, he finished reading that- _soaked in fucking bleach?_ \- before shoving the laptop off his lap and back into Liam’s hands. So that’s what Harry had meant that night. Standing up quickly- causing Zayn to yank his head out of the way to prevent his nose from being smashed into- Louis wiped his face with both hands, making them wet with hot, angry tears he hadn’t been aware had had shed. Without warning, he quickly snatched up the closest thing to him- the remote to the telly- and sent it flying across the room at their front door. He was slightly aware of Zayn, Niall, and Liam jumping as the object ricocheted off the door, falling down to the floor in pieces. The only sound for a few moments after that was the sound of the now loose batteries rolling around on the wood floor.

Louis just stared murderously at the door. His fingers twitched, wanting to throw something else, he assumed. But when he looked down at his hands, he was flooded with a new feeling. Hopelessness.

“Lou?” Niall wondered carefully.

He broke down then, sinking to the floor on the spot. It only took seconds for him to feel multiple arms wrap around him, but he was only focusing on his hands.

They were small, delicate looking almost. And Louis _hated_ them at that moment. His hands were made for something like writing or piano playing. And this made him feel and hopeless. Because if Louis couldn’t protect Harry from words, how the hell was he supposed to protect Harry from anything physical? All those times that the band joked about how Louis was the oldest, yet somehow the shortest had been in good nature. Louis never minded them because he never really cared that much. When they were alone, Harry always seemed to be able to make himself smaller. Louis didn’t know how, but whenever the starry eyed boy was sad or tired or just wanted to cuddle, he’d crawl up into Louis’ arms and lay his head on his chest. He’d draw his long legs up to himself and fold into himself and just look and feel small.

But Harry wasn’t small. In fact, he was probably the tallest of the band. And at times, he was also the most mature one. He was only _eighteen_. And with all the shit that goes around, it’s so easy to forget that. Eighteen, in America you’re still in high school. You’re just thinking about college so you can get a job. But Harry got his early. And as much fun as this job could be, it could be hell on earth at points. He’s got adult critics slinging mud at him from all directions, but usually the whole band was there as a united front with him. There’s strength in numbers, but all you really have to do is separate one from the rest.

That’s what this blog had done. It had just reminded Louis of how _vulnerable_ Harry really was. And with that vulnerability came the strong urge to protect him. But how was Louis supposed to do that when he was so small himself? A lot people- even Louis himself- tended to forget how small Louis really was. His energetic personality seemed to make up for his small physique though, so no one paid attention to it. Until now. What would- what _could_ Louis do if someone were to get past their security and make a grab for Harry? Louis was confident that he could at least land a decent punch, but if it came down to brute strength- a tug of war of sorts over Harry- Louis knew the odds were against him. Louis realized then how easy it would be for someone stronger, meaner, tougher, and _bigger_ to simply snatch Harry away from him. And Louis would be exposed then.

The pair was connected; take one away, the other falls. Even though Louis was definitely the more outwardly protective one, Harry was _possessive_ in ways that Louis couldn’t even begin to describe. One wrong touch, one ill-willed move towards the petit blue eyed boy, would earn someone a glare so murderous that you immediately found yourself snatching your hand away and taking a step back. Some may say that that was completely unhealthy and unreasonable, but Louis liked it. He _thrived_ on it. He thrived on Harry’s needing to want him. He needed to be wanted. And as absurd as it sounds, Harry’s possessiveness made him a better body guard than anyone could ever dream of. Because if looks could kill- well, you know the rest. So, if you took Harry away, Louis would feel extremely vulnerable. And maybe that’s why Louis was so protective, always in front of the curly haired boy. He needed to feel Harry’s eyes on him, watching over him.

Louis snapped out of his labyrinth of thoughts abruptly. The rage was back, and he wasn’t sad anymore. He didn’t know what had caused it, but he was going to take advantage of it while he could. The boys seemed to sense this newfound fire in the eldest member because they immediately shrunk away a little. Neither of them wanted to be the one to set off the time bomb that had just apparently been set. And even though no one said anything, they all felt bad for whoever Louis’ fire was aiming for.

Getting up quickly, Louis headed for the door. Grabbing his coat and his keys, he quickly zipped up the article of clothing. The boys watched warily as he reached down to grab the broken remote off the floor and piece it back together. He was doing it calmly. Too calmly.

“Louis?” Zayn inquired.

“I’ll be back,” Louis informed, sliding the back of the remote back into place.

“Yeah, but, where are you going?” Niall asked, kind of scared to hear the answer. They all knew Louis wasn’t going to the hospital in this state of mind. He was out on a warpath it seemed.

Yanking the door open, Louis looked down at a picture of him and Harry that was sitting comfortably on a small table placed by the door. Harry’s mum had taken that picture. The curly haired lad had been so happy to see his parents. He had been homesick before then so Louis had planned an impromptu trip there. Louis realized sadly that he hadn’t seen Harry that happy out in public for a while.

“Management,” he finally spit out before walking out the door, shutting it with a deathly quietness behind him.

The boys looked at each other worriedly before Liam finally said, “We better go with him.”

“Then we better go now, because I have a feeling he’s about to break a lot of speeding laws,” Zayn added.

——-Flashback——-

“Haz? I’m home, babe,” Louis called out.

No answer. Louis wasn’t concerned about this though, considering there could be numerous of reasons as to why Harry wasn’t replying. The number one being that the curly haired lad was infamous for putting ear buds in and listening to music at an unhealthy volume. So, after puttering around the living space, kicking his shoes off, and hanging his coat up, Louis made his way back towards their bedroom. As he drew closer though, he started hearing the faint sounds of water running. He paid no mind to this either as Harry often preferred to take a bath when he was feeling down. Getting closer still, Louis soon found out though that it sounded more like their shower running. Louis was slightly perplexed at this since Harry normally waited to till morning to take showers. Walking up to the bathroom door, Louis turned the knob.

Except, it didn’t turn.

Trying again, it took Louis a few stupid moments to realize that Harry had locked the door. This caused Louis to start worrying a bit more. Harry _never_ locked doors. Not while he was changing, not while he was showering, heck, he and Louis could be in the middle of the hottest sex only to have it interrupted because the curly haired lad forgot to lock the door- needless to say, it was usually up to Louis to remember to do that. But Harry never ever locked the door while he was in the bathroom. In their own flat. It just didn’t make sense. There were six keys to their flat. One for Louis, one for Harry, one that rotated around the rest of the boys- whoever needed it at the time (usually Niall, for food)- one for Paul, and one for each of their mums. And all of them have seen Harry naked before- Louis winced a little in sympathy for Paul. So the curly haired lad really had no reason to lock their front door _and_ their bathroom door.

“Harry?” Louis said, knocking lightly.

No answer.

“Harry?” Louis called out, louder this time. He knocked harder, too.

Still no answer.

Louis was extremely worried now. “Harry, I’m coming in, alright?” Louis didn’t really know why he phrased it as a question because at the same time he was reaching up to grab the small key that sat opened all the doors to the flat (except the front) from the door’s top ledge. Shoving it in forcefully, Louis jiggled it a bit before the lock gave.

“Harry, why did you lock- oh my god, _Harry_!”

Louis stared in horror at the lethargic looking boy that was sitting, fully clothed, on the shower floor. His hair was damp and plastered to his forehead, and hung limply over his dim green eyes. Eyes that seemingly saw nothing as they stared at the wall opposite him. Then Louis noticed the water.

It was red.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Louis muttered, rushing towards the shower. Turning the water off, he made a grab for one of Harry’s arms. He quickly turned it over at the same time he saw the slashes on Harry’s other one. “Haz,” he whispered, gripping the ruined wrist that was already in his hand tightly. The boy’s lips were slightly blue and when Louis went to push the normally curly locks off of Harry’s forehead, he realized that the water had been cold. Not freezing, but nothing you’d be comfortable sitting in.

“Harry? Harry, look at me,” Louis demanded, angry now. Angry that Harry would do this to himself. But mainly angry just so he couldn’t feel the aching sadness he knew was lurking underneath.

“I’m calling an ambulance,” he said to no one in particular it seemed.

Quickly spitting out what the emergency was, Louis pressed a few fingers to Harry’s neck, trying to feel for a pulse. When he found one- however faint- he waited for the mandatory instructions to ‘ _stay calm_ ’- yeah fucking right- before hanging up and calling Liam.

“Hey, mate, what’s-”

“Get the rest of the boys and get over to our flat. Now,” Louis demanded.

“What, why? Lou, what’s wr-”

“It’s Harry,” Louis choked out. “He’s- he- he cut himself and sat himself in the shower, and- and where the _fuck_ did he even learn that? And I don’t know what to do! And- and what if h-he-”

“Louis!” Liam cut in before Louis could wander into such dangerous territory. “Take a breath. He’s alive, right?”

Louis stayed silent, listening for another pulse beat. He wasn’t even sure he felt one when he said, “yes.”

“Okay, good. I’m on my way now, by the way. I assume you called an ambulance before calling me.”

“Y-yeah,” Louis managed.

He couldn’t stop running his hands through Harry’s limp hair.

“Okay, how bad are the cuts?”

Louis squeezed his eyes shut. He really didn’t want to look at them again. And plus, he was a little squeamish when it came to blood, to be honest. Forcing his eyes open, he held his breath and looked. He didn’t know what he was looking for though. They were red, and bloody. The color contrasted harshly against Harry’s pale skin. Louis yanked his gaze away.

“I don’t know, Li. What am I supposed to be searching for-”

“Does it look like he hit any arteries?” Liam snapped. “Because if he did, that’s not good because-”

“Please,” Louis whispered. “Don’t.”

“Sorry,” Liam said. “Okay, what did he cut himself with?”

Louis opened his mouth to respond but at that moment, Harry blinked. It was slow and it took him a while to open his eyes again but he blinked.

“Harry?” Louis gasped.

Harry moaned lightly, but it was a sound nonetheless.

“Harry!” Louis exclaimed, putting his hand on the boy’s shoulder. Cupping his cheek, Louis guided his face towards his. “Can you hear me?”

Harry stared at him. And it scared Louis at how empty his eyes looked then. But he stayed close however because if Harry said anything, Louis knew it wouldn’t be at a loud volume.

“Is he saying anything?” Liam inquired from the phone. He must have picked up what was going on though Louis’ outburst.

“No, he’s not. What do I do?” Louis demanded.

“Just keep talking to him, I suppose. Let him know you’re there.”

“Right.” Louis turned his attention back to Harry. “Harry, babe, I’m right here, alright? I love you,” he said, pressing a kiss to the spot between Harry’s eyes. “Do you hear me? I love you.”

Harry blinked at him again, but it was faster now and Louis could swear he saw a spark of _something_ in the green orbs this time. Louis was in the middle of yanking a towel off the wall railing when he thought he heard Harry call his name.

“What’d you say, love?” Louis asked. His voice sounded off to his ears. Not monotone, but almost calm.

Harry sniffled as Louis wrapped a towel around his shoulders and began rubbing the ends of it up and down Harry’s upper arms, trying to warm him back up.

Louis froze. What’d he just say? He stared at Harry’s lips which were trembling slightly. He was about to ask him what he meant but Harry beat him to it.

“Bleach. I couldn’t find it,” he mumbled. His eyes had regained their distant look again.

Louis started talking again, trying to bring the life back to them because the look Harry had now was disconcerting. “Hazza, baby, what are you talking about?”

“What’s he saying?” Liam- who Louis kept forgetting was on the phone, even though he was holding it to his ear- asked.

“Something about bleach.”

“Took a shower instead,” Harry mumbled, quieter this time. Fainter. It scared Louis.

“Haz, I have no idea what you’re-” He cut off abruptly when he spotted something.

Sitting in the corner, on the other side of shower, was an empty bottle of pills.

“Harry?” Louis whispered.

But the younger boy’s eyes had slipped shut.

“Harry!”

+

“Take it down.”

“I’m sorry?” their head of management, Jack, asked.

“Take down the damn blog!”

The other lads barged in then, freezing almost immediately at the icy stare Louis shot at them.

“What blog?” Jack asked, gaining Louis’ attention again.

Louis huffed out a breath. “The blog that’s dedicated to killing Harry Styles. My. Boyfriend,” he spit out.

“That’s really not something we can-”

“Of course you can do it!” Louis shouted. “If you can fucking hack my Twitter account and coerce interviewers into not spilling the beans about moments they witness between Harry and I, you can very well take down a blog that’s dedicated to _killing_ a member of this band!”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad. Probably just some spiteful fan girl-”

“It’s not a joke,” Liam cut in, before Louis could scream at the man.

“Yeah,” Niall added. “That girl’s got some problems.”

Jack bit his lip before saying, “I’ll see what I can do.”

Maybe it was Louis being paranoid, but he thought he saw the man’s eye twitch in annoyance.

“That’s a load of bullshit,” Louis stated.

“Excuse me?” Jack said, incredulous.

“No, you’re not excused,” Louis snapped. “I said that’s bullshit. You’ll do nothing, absolutely nothing once we leave. You’ll sit on your lazy ass-”

“Watch your mouth, Tomlinson,” Jack cut in.

“No, you watch yours,” Louis countered. “Don’t fucking tell us you want what’s best for this band if when a death threat blog is discovered and you don’t plan to do _shit_!”

“Louis,” Liam said warningly.

The Doncaster lad whirled around. “What?” he snapped. “You know it’s true! I can’t take it, Li. I can’t! That blog needs to come down. God knows how long it’s been up!” Louis felt horror run through his veins as his words went to his brain. How long exactly has Harry been keeping up with that blog? How long exactly has Harry known someone wanted him _dead_? Exactly how much hurt was he carrying around before he finally broke?

“Probably do the lad some good.”

Niall, Liam, and Zayn’s mouths dropped open as they stared at the man that was behind Louis. The latter felt his shoulders bunch up and his fists clench.

“What?” Louis inquired lowly.

“Styles-”

Fucking _Styles_. Like they weren’t good enough to use their first names. Using last names was just as degrading as calling them by numbers, Louis thought.

“- getting too arrogant anyway. Probably did him a him a shit load of good. Knock him down a peg or-”

The man never got to finish his thought though because Louis had whirled around and landed a solid punch to his nose, sending Jack staggering back.

“You son of a bitch,” he said lowly, walking towards him. “You’re not allowed to talk about Harry- he has a first name, you know?- that way. Ever,” Louis stated menacingly.

“Listen, you are a part of a band. My band, so I can talk to, or about, you and your sick little boyfriend-”

Louis would have punched him again, harder. But it seemed the lads had known that as he suddenly had arms around him, holding him back.

“Don’t do it, Lou,” Niall said.

“Why not?” Louis shouted, looking at Jack. The man made his way over so he was standing behind his fucking shiny, polished desk, picking up an office phone. Yanking forward, only to be held back again, Louis shouted, “he fucking deserves it!” Squirming around, Louis demanded again, “why _not_?”

“Harry,” was all Zayn said.

Louis froze for a few seconds before struggling again. How _dare_ Zayn bring Harry into this. But the dark haired lad continued.

“You know he wouldn’t want you getting in trouble for him,” Zayn reasoned.

“I don’t care what he wants,” Louis lied. He pushed against the arms again, but with not as much motivation this time.

“You know we know that’s not true,” Liam said. Louis was shaking with pent up anger now. It wasn’t _fair_. He wasn’t even allowed to defend Harry.

The door opened then and all the men in the room rotated in order to see who it was. Paul. Louis knew he couldn’t do anything now. But he was still pissed. Knowing he would be ‘escorted’ out shortly, Louis turned back to face Jack. He felt Liam’s strong hand land on his shoulder, preventing him from actually doing anything. But Louis’ mouth was still in perfect order.

“ _Soaked in bleach_ ,” Louis seethed. “That’s what that blog said Harry needed to be on the internet. Because he’s so _disgusting_. Well, you know why Harry’s so _gross_ , Jack? Because it sure as hell isn’t because he’s gay since you’ve done _such_ a good job at making sure the fans don’t know about us.”

Jack just stared at him coldly.

“It’s because of the label you have let the media put on him. A man whore, that’s what they’re calling him. Because of _you_. He’s in the fucking hospital on suicide watch because he finally started believing all the lies that were _mysteriously_ being started. He felt so disgusted by his made up self that the real him started feeling bad about himself. Because _you_ made it happen.

Four-hundred and ten women. That’s four-hundred and ten lies. Four-hundred and ten of _your_ reasons as to why Harry’s so disgusting. To Harry, that’s four-hundred and ten reasons why people don’t like him. And that’s four-hundred and ten reasons why he isn’t _worth_ it. And they’re not even true! But you made him believe that. I’ll always hate this management for that, you know.

And the boys and everyone is damn well aware that I would be ripping up our damn contract if it weren’t for Harry thinking that no one else will take on a band with two gay members. So he stays, let’s himself be virtually _murdered_ for us. And he stays quiet for you. So the least you can do is make sure that blog is gone as soon as possible. Because as much as you hate to admit it, you _need_ Harry. Even if it’s just for his last name. Well, fucking newsflash, if that blog stays up and you don’t do a better job of keeping shit like that away from him, you won’t have a _Harry Styles_ anymore. None of us will.”

Finally out of breath and out of words, Louis turned quickly and made his way to the door. He stopped suddenly though in the doorway and Paul was already moving out of the way when Louis turned around, looking at Jack.

“And if you pulled your head out of your ass, I would hope even you could see the light and can admit that no one deserves to be told that they’d be better off dead.”

Louis left then and he found himself crying and wiping angry tears away as he made his way to the car. He was probably in no state to be driving- tears blurring his vision and sobs wracking his body- but he needed to get away. He didn’t even know where he was going. He had just slammed on the gas and started towards nowhere. But as Louis calmed down and the tears dried and the sobs turned to sniffles, Louis started to get his sense back. With an ache in his heart, he realized where he needed to go was _home_. So, pulling an illegal U-turn, Louis wiped at his eyes and headed towards the hospital.

+

If you asked Louis how to save a life, you’d expect him to say something along the lines of ‘ _call for help, stay calm, and let the person know you’re there for them. To just be a good friend_.’ And that was all true. However, if you asked Louis how to save _Harry’s_ life, you’d get a completely different answer. And maybe that was a little biased and deceptive, but Louis didn’t care. See, if you asked Louis how to save Harry’s life he’d tell you there are a bunch of different steps.

Harry has this mental cliff inside his brain. He walks along the edge of it every day. Step one would be to figure out what pushes Harry closer to the edge and what holds him back. Even after years of being with the younger lad, Louis was still discovering what pushed Harry away and what kept him close. Words were a big contender in this. They could push him so close that he was in danger of falling off. Or they could reel him in and make him cling to you like his life depended on it. Louis hadn’t been aware of how true that was until now.

Looking down at Harry’s sleeping form, the Doncaster lad let his pointer finger trail lightly down the side of Harry’s face; from his hairline to his jaw. And then back up.

“I’m sorry I let you down,” Louis whispers.

Don’t baby the curly haired lad, because he needs his independence. But if you see him on his phone for an excessive amount of time and he hasn’t smiled for a while, distract him. That’s step two. Because as long as Harry has a phone in his hand and internet access at the ready, he’s dangerously close to that cliff’s edge. And Louis hated how just a simple keyboard or a handheld device had that much power nowadays. With just the click of a button, anyone anywhere could send Harry spiraling. And that scared Louis more than anything. He often found himself wondering where he would be when that happened. The blue eyed boy wasn’t dumb enough to think he could be with Harry every minute of every day, but he could hope that Harry would at least trust him enough to call him if he ever felt like he did on that day.

Climbing into the small hospital bed, Louis wraps a gentle arm around Harry’s waist. Being careful not to shift him or the wires, Louis easily molds himself to the warmth beside him. Silently thanking whatever power that Harry’s still alive and warm.

“I’m sorry for not being there,” Louis whispers, a tear slipping down his cheek and onto Harry’s hospital gown.

And if Harry for some reasons steps too close to the edge and is in danger of falling, you _don’t_ hold him back. Because then he’ll fight. When Harry steps too close to the edge, you run to the bottom and catch him. Step three isn’t to catch him though; it’s to always pick him up when he falls.

“I’m so sorry.”

+

When Louis wakes up he feels a familiar weight on his chest. It’s dark in the room, but the machines around them provide quite a bit of light. Already knowing it’ll be there, Louis raises his hand to run his hands through the soft curls of the younger boy’s hair. Louis knows Harry’s awake from the soft shuddery breath that’s released. It hits Louis’ other hand which he realizes is being held by another. Louis has never been so grateful for the feel of a warm breath on that stretch of skin than in that moment.

“Are you angry?”

Louis stops petting Harry’s hair, pausing to think. Harry makes a small sound of protest so Louis immediately resumes his ministrations.

“I was,” he admits.

“And now?” Harry inquires, and he sounds so scared and small that Louis almost wants to cry at how they got there.

“No, just confused is all.”

Harry sighs. “About?”

“Do you love me, Harry?” Louis asks.

Harry looks at him and Louis’ heart stutters at just how green Harry’s eyes look again. They’re not the fiery, shiny, emerald green they are when the boy’s happy, but even in the dim light, Louis can tell that the regular glow is there and he couldn’t be more grateful.

“Of course I do,” Harry says fervently. “How could I not? You’re-” Harry pauses, and his eyebrows scrunch together adorably like they always do when he thinks. “You’re you,” he says simply.

Louis smiles then nudges Harry so he scoots up some so they’re eye level. Soon, they’re both lying on their sides in the small bed. The lack of elbow room should be uncomfortable, but they’re used to it from sharing beds sometimes on the tour bus.

“How much do you love me?” Louis inquires. They’re alone, but he feels the need to talk in hushed tones. Not quite whispering, but low enough that they couldn’t be overheard if someone was walking outside.

Harry looks confused as to why Louis is asking this. “A lot?” It comes out like a question, like he’s afraid there was a wrong answer.

Louis reaches up and pushes a stray curl away from Harry’s eye. “Will you do something for me then?”

“Anything,” Harry replies automatically. He reaches up and takes ahold of Louis’ hand. Holding it to his cheek, he nuzzles it gently and Louis can’t help but smile. “I’d do anything for you,” Harry whispers.

“Then live.”

Harry’s eyes flash to Louis’ and promptly back down. Louis can tell that he doesn’t want to talk about it as his grip tightens on his hand.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Louis reassures gently, bringing their intertwined hands to his mouth. “Just tell me-” he kisses the back of Harry’s hand and feels him shudder lightly- “that you love me enough to live.” He looks at Harry when he says, “Tell me you love me enough to not leave me alone.”

“I’d never do that,” Harry argues and Louis nods, not bringing up the fact that Harry almost did just that. Harry seems to realize this as he ducks his head shamefully. “I was just sad, and confused,” he whispers, and if it weren’t so quiet, Louis’ not sure he would have heard him.

“Why were you confused, love?”

“That blog-” Harry pauses and Louis knows he thinks he let his tongue slip.

“I know about it,” he informs and Harry looks at him worriedly. “You left it up.”

Harry sighs. “Well, they’re right.”

“Harry-” Louis starts to protest but Harry cuts him off gently.

“Not all of it,” Harry argues for him. “But the post about me no longer being human…”

“That’s a lie, too,” Louis says vehemently. “You’re just as human as anyone on this earth.” He tries not to wince at how he was reminded of that. “You’re human,” he whispers again.

“But what if I’m not me anymore?”  Harry worries.

“You haven’t changed at all, love.”

“But I must have done something. Something that made that girl-”

“That girl is mentally unstable.”

“-believe that I’m no longer in danger of taking her words to heart.”

“She just doesn’t know you. It’s easy to talk about people you know nothing about,” Louis states.

“How is anyone supposed to know about me when they don’t _know_ me, though?”

“They can’t,” Louis admits. “They just have to believe that you stay you.”

Harry bites on his trembling lip before whispering, “what if I change?”

“Oh, Hazza, believe it or not, I don’t think you’re capable of changing.”

“I don’t know,” Harry frets. “Have you seen all the tattoos I’ve gotten lately?” And Louis is glad that he’s attempting a joke. He chuckles before pulling him in closer.

“Yes, but that’s not changing in the way I’m thinking of,” Louis states.

Harry buries his head into Louis’ chest before asking, “Then what do you mean?”

“You still like taking baths,” Louis ticks off. “You always forget at least one thing while grocery shopping, but you never remember until _after_ you return home. You always buy a jumper a size too big because you like the room. You never wear your gray sweatpants unless you’re sad. If we have a day off you’ll spend it lazing around, claiming you’re too tired to do anything productive. Somehow though, we always end up making love on the floor after eating an indoor picnic you set up. You’re addicted to staying in touch with our fans- even if you do it by tweeting some weird things- but sometimes I have to hide your phone if you get sidetracked and start reading gossip about yourself. You like taking pictures of Niall when he’s not looking and putting them on Twitter. You keep a picture of Anne and Gemma in your wallet. You never wear your sunglasses on your head when you go to the bathroom anymore-” Harry chuckles lightly at that- “You still want the power of time travel, but you’d only use it to help your friends fix their mistakes instead of yours. Most times, you are incapable of picking a shirt out in the mornings so I end up having to pick one.  Only your right ear is ticklish for some reason, so I always have to kiss your left one unless I’m trying to make you giggle.”

“What else?” Harry asks, and Louis can tell he’s on the verge of falling asleep.

“You can’t go to bed without a cup of tea. And maybe that’s the reason that you talk in your sleep,” Louis adds.

“Those are all just the little things, Lou,” Harry whispers.

“But it’s you they add up to.” Harry looks at him then and his eyes are welling. Louis wipes one away before leaning down to kiss his nose. “And I’m in love with you.”

“I’m in love with you, too,” Harry declares quietly.

“Then _please_ , live. For me,” Louis tries again. And honestly, he doesn’t know what he’ll do if Harry says he can’t. If he’s too far gone that he just _can’t_.

“Please,” he whispers.

And Harry nods before stretching up to press his lips to Louis’. “Okay,” he sighs. “I’ll try.”

And that’s good enough for Louis. As long as Harry keeps trying to find reasons to live. Because Louis’ confident he can give Harry that- plenty of reasons as to why he’s worth it.

+

I haven’t tried to kill myself since that day. And I’ve regretted trying since that night in the hospital. I wonder a lot what it would have been like if it had actually worked. If Louis hadn’t found me in time. I wonder a lot if I would have had one of those out of body experiences and have been forced to watch Louis cope. I’m glad I didn’t die though, because just the thought of seeing Louis sad _now_ makes me sad.

I came close again one time, though. But as I was staring at the cabinet where the pills used to be, I sniffled and called Louis. I just told him I was sad, but he seemed to get the message. He cut his date with Eleanor short and I tried not to think about how the magazines would be looking into that action later on as I curled into our bed and tried to think of Louis.

I wasn’t thinking for long before the real thing was actually there, wrapping his arms around me. He didn’t say anything, didn’t force me to talk about it and I loved him for that. Because I wasn’t sure I _could_ talk about it. I didn’t know why I had gotten so sad this time. I just did. And maybe I’m crazy, but when Louis tells me I’m not I can’t help but believe him. Louis started whispering a bunch of things about me then. He planted soft, feather-light kisses to my body, naming something new and something different about me with each one. I counted twenty-one kisses before I stopped.

We don’t have sex every night- shocker, I know- but Louis always kisses my arms before letting me curl into him to go to sleep. Nine scars. Louis tells me nine little things I did that day that I always do without realizing it. Sometimes they’re different, sometimes they’re the same. But Louis still says them because they’re ‘ _simply Harry things to do’_. He kisses my mouth and tells me loves me then. And when I finally curl up in his arms, he’ll brush my hair back and he’ll press his lips to my forehead and thank me for not leaving him today.  I just press a kiss to his hand and tell him I’m sorry I ever tried.

If you asked me how to save a life, I’d tell you I’m not the best person to ask, seeing as I tried to kill myself once.

If you asked me how to save a life, I’d tell you to ask Louis. Because he saves mine all the time.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! x


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